random thoughts, musings and workings of a totally warped mind. tintin is a colorblind writer who paints,dreams of flying a kite along EDSA, teaches middle & high school writing & literature, and is the future mother of Kulay and Una Rosa Maria.

Friday, January 23, 2004

from the mouth of my babe

he said what i need is diligence. my laziness,according to him, is detrimental to any literary visions i have of myself. i just have to write, write,write, he said. if that's the way i want to live my life, i might as well die writing. and to do so, i must get on with it.

come to think of it, this has always been my problem. i have always been a butterfly when it comes to projects. i work hard,set my heart on things, get my heart broken and move on. as with my life, my relationships,my dreams and fears, i flutter, fly, thrive on whatever's good (even the bad) and move on. and so, i look for more.

i envy naya. first, because i really like and admire her poetry. her metaphors range from the most common to the amazingly profound. her language mesmerizes me,too. i know for certain that when i read a poem of hers without her by-line, i would recognize that voice, resonating on the page,reaching my mind. and second, just like her, i wish i were teaching again.

i am writing this with a sigh.

and of course, there's ian whose works i would always read for sheer pleasure and to simply marvel at his craft. his fiction is comforting no matter what his subject is. there is,in his words, a quiet spectacle that unfolds before my eyes but it is always something calm and fluid that i allow myself to flow along his plots, his characters, his images. i specially love ian's stories on afternoons when my own despair to create swallows me whole like a dragon's open mouth...

then there's pam. this girl simply amazes me.

and dinah? this woman has the most beautiful words and an equally beautiful mind.

there are other things to do and enjoy aside from writing. i love, i am loved, i laugh at myself, cry,weep, eat anything, hug people---there are a million other beautiful things i could make myself do.

but writing eludes me. and i was born to chase anything that runs away from me. chase it, grip its neck, shake it and when everything's done and still nothing else happens, i let it go.

i know when to admit defeat.

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